Scion
by Dark Amystika
Summary: Mundus has returned for revenge. Before Dante and Trish can go after him, their daughter does first, driven by the uncontrollable demon blood in her veins. What is it she seeks? And what does Mundus have to do with it? Please R&R!
1. Awakening

A/N: I do not own DMC, blah, blah, blah, let's just get to the fic, shall we?

Awakening 

A lone, slim figure slipped silently through the shadows, her black leather boots making little sound on the pavement. Her long, light brown hair hung in a thick braid down the back of her black and red tank top with three buckles across the front. Her long legs were concealed by black pants with two buckles on either thigh, a dagger of a twisted, tapering design slipped into the two on the right side. Her ice-blue eyes pierced the night as she closed in on her prey. She was the Devil Hunter, Selene.

Selene was born with demonic powers, like her father Dante, but they had slept within her for years, giving her the semblance of a normal child. But when they woke, it was with violent retribution. What had caused this was uncertain. Perhaps it was because they had lain dormant for too long. Perhaps it was because she, in her childish innocence, had infuriated her darker, demon side. Or perhaps it had something to do with her right middle finger…or lack thereof.

Ten years earlier… 

Selene, five years old and dressed in a sky-blue dress with pink hair ribbons, was sitting on the smooth stone steps of the library waiting for her parents to come and collect her. She was perfectly content to wait and read her book. The sun warmed the steps she sat on, a delicate breeze played with her hair, and her book completely engrossed her. So rapt was she, that she didn't notice when the breeze intensified and blocked out the sun with clouds. That is, she didn't notice until a voice from the newly-appeared shadows called out to her softly.

"Selene…" 

She froze and looked up slowly. Maybe it was just her father playing another joke on her. Smiling slightly, she called back, "Is that you, Papa?" in a slightly accusing tone.

_"Yes, dear, it's Papa. Come here,"_ replied the voice, which did not sound much like her father's. Then again, her father sometimes threw her voice to startle her, though it was all good-natured. She closed her book and rose, moving towards the voice and into the thick bushes.

"Papa?" she called uncertainly.

_"I'm over here,"_ answered the voice. Confused, Selene followed the voice. _"Yes, that's it. Come near. Nearer still. Good girl, nearly there!"_ encouraged the voice, which sounded less and less like Dante's with every word it spoke. Suddenly a black shadow-like creature with blazing yellow eyes sprang at her from the shadows. She didn't even have time to scream before darkness clouded her vision.

When she awoke, it was from the searing pain in her right hand. So intense was it that she screamed. On and on she screamed, endlessly, dementedly, until the shadow-creature snapped at her, "Stop that noise before I cut the other one off!"

"Cut it off…?" she whispered stupidly. Terrified at what she was going to see, she looked slowly down at her right hand…and screamed again. Her middle finger was gone, cut clean off. She continued to scream, heedless of the monster's threats, until he struck her across the face.

"I told you to stop!" he roared. Selene whimpered, clutching her mutilated hand, breathing in small sobs far too short and fast. Suddenly, the pain receded. Her breathing slowed and her heart stopped pounding. A strange, cold calm descended upon her, coursing through her. A voice in her head spoke gently, _"We can't just let him do this, can we? You're not just going to sit here and wallow in self-pity, are you? No, you're not, you're stronger than that."_

"Yes," she whispered hoarsely. "I want to do something, but it hurts so badly!"

_"I know, I know it hurts,"_ agreed the voice soothingly. _"But you can't let that stop you. Besides, it doesn't hurt so much anymore does it?"_

"No," she said softly, not wanting to attract the shadow-monster's attention.

_"Yes, you feel better now, don't you,"_ said the voice. _"I'll protect you. I'm here now, and I always will be now that I've awakened. Together, we can do anything."_

"Anything…" echoed Selene. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Slowly, she opened her eyes. She was filled with a fire now, a fire that demanded to be fed. A strange taste filled her mouth, a strange desire. She rose silently to her feet, glaring icily at the creature. Seeming to sense this, he turned to her.

"What's the matter with you?" he demanded. Selene didn't answer. Her vision slowly tinted red as her eyes began to burn with the most interesting sensation. The shadow stepped back in alarm. "By Mundus," he whispered. "No. No, this isn't supposed to be this way. You're not supposed to be Awakened!"

"Things change," said the voice through Selene's lips. She advanced on him.

When Dante and Trish arrived, having received a box containing Selene's finger and a note threatening to send her heart next if they didn't open the gate to the Underworld and surrender to Mundus, what they found was not a shadow-demon and their sweet, innocent child. They found a black, bloody mess and a raving, savage beast in the grip of uncontrollable demonic powers that grew and developed before their vessel. Selene had blood all over her, even on her mouth, and her eyes were glowing red. She turned when Dante and Trish came in. Instead of running to their arms, she screamed an inhuman scream of vengeance and lunged at Dante. He caught her in the air, hold the front of her dress as she shrieked in rage and struggled, biting, kicking, spitting at him, trying desperately to claw at his face.

"Selene! Selene, sweetie, it's me, it's Papa!" Dante said vainly. Selene only screamed again. "Selene, can't you hear me? I know you can. Please, it's Papa. Calm down." Selene, actually, could not hear anything Dante was saying. She was in the grip of her newly awakened powers and they were in full possession of her mind, drunk on their new freedom and strength, ready to rend and kill anything they could. Even Selene's own parents.

"Selene, I'm sorry about this," said Dante desperately, and he cuffed her sharply. She stopped screaming abruptly and looked at him in bewilderment. Looking around, she realized what had happened and commenced to sob. Dante held her close, pressing her face gently into his shoulder, whispering soothing things to her. All she could do was sob out apologies and a half-baked rendition of what had happened to her. Dante and Trish held her between them, trying to calm her, telling her it wasn't her fault. Selene could only half-hear them over her sobs. She cried and cried until she finally passed out on her father's shoulder.

When she awoke, she was in her own bed with a tourniquet on her hand. Her hand still hurt a little, but not nearly to the intensity it had before. Her parents sat nearby, waiting for her to wake. When they saw that she had, they smiled on her and reassured her that everything would be all right. But Selene knew better. After the events of that night, nothing could ever be the same.

Present day… 

One of the shadows moved suddenly on the vacant street. Selene smiled the mirthless smile of a hunting wolf; she had found her prey. The shadow-beast fled across the wall, concealing itself at times to wait and see if any passers-by were coming. There were none, save Selene. She had an especial hatred for shadow-demons, considering what had been done to her. She would show no mercy. The creature was becoming more and more at ease. A dangerous move, and one that would cost it it's life. It slowed to a walking pace, and Selene struck, quick as lightning. She threw her dagger expertly, pinning the shadow-demon to the wall. It screamed in pain and surprise, struggling to get free. It wouldn't be able to, Selene knew. The dagger was coated with a liquid form of ultraviolet radiation. Liquid sunlight. The ultimate weapon against a shadow. She closed in on the creature, wasting no time. The beast saw her and pleaded for it's life in vain, offering her dark secrets of hidden lands, secrets of the Underworld that no one knew, not even Mundus himself. Selene calmly shut these entreaties out of her mind and reached for the dagger.

"Speak to me, devil-bitch!" screeched the shadow-demon. "Why won't you even speak!" Selene didn't respond, simply, in one fluid movement, wrenched her dagger free and plunged it into the monster's heart, watching it writhe in death throes and disintegrate.

"I'll tell you why I wouldn't speak," she said quietly. "My philosophy is, and has been for some time, 'If you're going to kill someone, kill them. Don't stand there talking about it'. You could very well end up dead that way, you realize." Turning from the dusty remains of the demon, she went in search of it's Host. Shadow-demons must have a human Host to carry them as their shadow; otherwise they cannot exist in the human world. Rounding a corner, she nearly ran straight into a tall man with moon-white hair, dressed all in red.

"Good evening Father," she said.

"Hello Selene," Dante replied. "Where have you been?"

"Hunting," replied Selene distantly.

"Selene, you know your mother and I don't like you hunting alone," said Dante mildly. In truth, he was proud of his daughter's bravery and ruthlessness, though her stoicism saddened him. After the horrible incident when she was five, she had completely transformed. She insisted her father teach her the ways of the sword and the gun. She had her mother teach her hand-to-hand combat. She even created and perfected a few techniques herself. She had learned much very quickly, and far too young. But the past could not be undone. She seemed to carry heavy burdens that she refused to speak of. She often wandered aimlessly, deep in some private, rapt contemplation of who-knew-what. She took to deep meditation and constant training and sharpening of her skills. She was never satisfied with anything less than perfection. Often she would go into fits of rage and spend half the night working on some new technique until she was satisfied with it. But that was not the worst of it. She had never cried once since that night when she was five.

Dante sighed. "Well, at least you're alive. What was it this time?"

"Another shadow-demon. Quite inexperienced at that. His Host should be around somewhere, lying in the street feeling drunk and wondering why," replied Selene. "Care to join me?" Dante nodded, and they went off in search of the Host. When they found him, stumbling and cursing them heartily, Selene moved in first to make an end of him. No matter what he had been before, the shadow-demon's influence had poisoned his heart. All goodness and light had been purged from him. He would slit his own mother's throat for no reason at all. As Selene moved towards him, a shot rang out. She gave a start of surprise and turned around. Ebony was smoking in her father's hand, and the Host lay dead behind her.

"I was handling it," she said, annoyed.

"You've killed enough for one night," said Dante, holstering Ebony. "In fact, you've killed enough for one childhood. When's the last time you laughed without contempt or malice in your voice, but just plain happiness?"

"Happiness?" asked Selene. She paused. She actually had to think about the last time she had been happy. "Two weeks ago, I chased a Wall-Walker away from a group of little children. They were so frightened, but when I destroyed the creature, they all smiled at me, and hugged me, asking me to play with them. I said I preferred to watch them play. And I did. And I laughed with them as they played, feeling as though I were playing with them. I felt like a little child again. But I've forgotten the feeling."

"Maybe it's time you remembered," said Dante gently. "You're killing yourself with each demon you destroy. Stop hunting for a while. Rekindle your teenage years."

"I can't do that, Father," said Selene.

"Please try," insisted Dante gently.

"No, I mean I'm physically incapable of doing that," said Selene. "I have to keep fighting these creatures. There's something I'm meant to do; I can feel it. I've felt it every waking moment since the night I was Awakened. Every monster I vanquish brings me closer to that destiny. I have to keep following it. Only then may I possibly find peace."

Dante sighed again. "All right, I can see there's no two ways about this. But would you at least call me Papa once in a while?" Selene was startled. She couldn't remember addressing her father like that in years. She had no idea he wanted her to. Meeting his eyes, she saw a distinct sadness, and wondered how long it had been there and why she had never noticed it before. She didn't want him to be sad, she wanted him to be proud. She wanted him to look on her with pride and be able to boast of her skills and accomplishments. She wanted him to love her as he would have loved his son, had he had one. So she reached down into a place she didn't visit often, a trickle in her heart that had once been a great waterfall. Happiness. Summoning as much of it as she could muster, she managed at faint half-smile.

"I'll try to Fa…Papa."

Dante glowed at her. "Thank you." He slipped his arm about her shoulders. "Come on. Let's go home."


	2. Ressurection

A/N: I've changed the rating on this to 'R' because I'm not quite sure that PG-13 is right. I don't want to cause any more "infractions". On that note, I'm sorry I didn't update sooner, but I supposedly commited an "infraction" when I submitted a parody of the song "What A Wonderful World" under what was apparently the wrong section. Well, it's not my fault that they no longer have a "Parodies and Spoofs" section!  


  
  
Resurrection

Selene was silent as she walked home with her father to the "Devil Never Cry" club. Trish was waiting for them when they arrived.

"Oh good, you found her," she said, as though Selene wasn't there. "And where was she this time?"

"Hunting a shadow-demon," replied Dante.

"It is generally considered rude to refer to someone in the third person when they are present," commented Selene, polishing her dagger and not looking at her parents. They looked at her. Trish thought of chastising her, but decided against it. There was nothing she could do. No matter what, Selene would never be the sweet, innocent child she once was. Instead, Trish turned back to Dante.

"Have you thought of anything yet?" she asked.

"Nothing feasible," replied Dante tiredly. "It just doesn't make any sense. First she seems completely devoid of demonic powers, then she's raving out of control with them. I have no idea what's causing it. I've talked to her, but she doesn't know either, and questioning her when she's already said she can't answer any questions is pointless because it just agitates her."

"What happened to 'It's rude to refer to someone in the third person if they're present'?" teased Trish.

"She's no longer present," replied Dante. Trish looked over at where Selene had been standing in surprise and found that she indeed was not there.

"How does she do that?" she wondered aloud.

"Practice," came Selene's calm voice, causing Trish to start slightly. Dante smiled. "I'm going to see if I can get some sleep, so it's safe to talk about me. 'Night."

"Now, just hold on one second there, young lady," said Dante sternly. Selene turned and cocked an eyebrow questioningly. Dante continued to give her that stern stare, until he lifted his arms and his face broke into a smile. "Where's my hug?" Selene actually smiled a full smile as she went to him and hugged him, then Trish. Both kissed her and said good-night and watched her leave. As soon as she was out of earshot, they continued discussing her strange Awakening.

As usual, Selene had great difficulty falling asleep. In addition to all the other odd things about her, she was also something of an insomniac. And she rarely dreamt. But when she finally fell asleep, she did dream. But the dream was not pleasant.

_Selene wandered down a cold stone corridor, curiously gazing at everything around her. The light from the full moon washed through the windows, bathing the hall in mysterious blue light. She wondered vaguely where she was. The thick red carpet on the floor muffled her steps, so she could easily hear shouts from ahead of her. Her father's shouts._

_ "Father?" she called curiously. No answer but more shouts and the song of a sword. She cautiously edged up the stairs, hugging the wall. She soon reached the top and saw Dante finishing off a few Bloody Puppets and Maris. Nothing he couldn't handle. Hell, it was nothing _she_ couldn't handle. She relaxed and watched his graceful, dance-like movements. She had always liked to watch her father battle when she was little, and it was hardly different now that she had grown up a bit. The last Puppet collapsed to pieces on the ground, leaving behind a few Red Orbs that Dante gathered disinterestedly. Glancing up, he saw the stone carving of a woman in the wall ahead of him-Alastor. He smiled, remembering when he had first obtained the sword from the carving. Suddenly Alastor shivered on his back and flew over his head to the carving._

_ "Hey, what the-?!" said Dante in surprise. Frowning, he went to retrieve his sword. But the sword moved first, suddenly turning in the hand of the carving and shooting out at Dante, impaling him to the floor where he lay as though dead. Selene knew he was not, of course, but it was still unsettling to see her father lying lifeless with a sword in his chest. Disliking the sight, she moved to pull Alastor free, only to find that her hand went clean through the hilt! Startled, she drew back and looked at her hands, touching them, touching her face, arms, legs. Perfectly substantial. Confused, she reached to free the sword again. And again, her hand passed straight through the hilt. She stepped back, waiting for Dante to awaken by himself, as there was nothing she could do to help. Suddenly she heard dark laughter coming from the hidden cathedral door. She turned and saw a faceless humanoid form moving towards her father, reaching to seize him._

_ "Don't you touch him, you devil!" she shouted at him in fury, flying at the figure with her fists, forgetting that she was somehow insubstantial. The figure didn't even blink one of it's three hideous red eyes, but leaned down and picked up Dante in it's arms, just as a father would carry his child. Selene suppressed a shudder when she saw the blade of Alastor protruding from her father's back, dripping blood. The figure stalked towards her, washing over her like a shadow. Everything went black._

_ When the dream returned, they were no longer by the cathedral entrance. They were in a pulsating red place with glowing red runes everywhere. Selene looked about in morbid fascination, 'til at length her eyes settled on something in the very centre of the room. The evil shadow-figure stood with several of the lesser evil spirits around some sort of unholy altar fashioned from obsidian. Curious, Selene moved closer. Something lay chained to the altar, but she couldn't see exactly what. Whatever it was, it was half pale tan and half black. Her heart stopped when she drew close enough to see what it was: Dante. There he lay, stripped from the waist up, save for Alastor, his eyes squeezed shut, lips parted slightly, teeth gritted._

_ "Father?" she whispered. Out of all her favourite bedtime stories of her father's adventures came the name of the profane place she was in. "The Place of Sacrifice. Oh my god." She stepped back once, then walked right up to the altar. Though she couldn't touch anything, nor could she be seen or heard, she could smell old blood in this place, feel the coldness of death. The altar positively reeked of both. Her father was the only thing that held life, but that wouldn't be for long, Selene knew. She had to get him out of here, but how, when she couldn't even touch him? Biting her lip, uncharacteristically nervous, her eyes darted around, desperately seeking some way of getting them both out. Dante groaned, bringing her attention back to him, and opened his eyes slowly._

_ "What? What happened?" he mumbled, looking around as best he could._

_ "Impaled upon your own sword, Dante," commented the dark figure. "Literally." Faceless as he was, Selene could tell his was smiling in a way she very much disliked as he came towards the altar. Selene tried to move away before he reached her, but he still swept over her. She shuddered; it was like stepping into an icy mist. She moved quickly to the opposite side of the altar._

_ "Huh? You?" said Dante thickly. He shook his head, trying to reorientate himself. "You're not supposed to be here. What the hell!" he cried, realizing where he was and fully coming to. Immediately he struggled against the chains that held him. The dark figure sighed, as though it were watching the ridiculous antics of a small child, and pressed down hard on the hilt of Alastor. Dante screamed in pain._

_ "I suggest you do not do that again," advised the figure. Dante, panting, glared at it with hatred in his eyes._

_ "Bastard," he spat. "You'll gain nothing from this."_

_ "Oh, but I will," replied the figure. "I'll have you out of my way, leaving a clear path to dear Trish. Oh yes, I haven't forgotten her. But be glad in the knowledge that I will give your regards to your son before I kill him."_

_ "Son!" said Selene, rather affronted. Just because Sparda had had sons didn't mean that Dante would. Devil Hunters could be female. "Sexist pig," she grumbled, kicking at his leg and passing right through it. Smiling grimly, she kicked at somewhere much more sensitive just because he wouldn't know, all the while watching her father's reaction to the evil shadow's proclamation. Dante simply smiled mirthlessly._

_ "You don't know what you're dealing with," he said calmly._

_ "We'll see about that, boy," said the figure coldly. With that, he drew the sword Sparda from a sheath at his side and slit Dante's throat in one smooth movement._

_ "NO!" screamed Selene. "FATHER!" She reached out to him, but she was being pulled away by some unseen force. "Let me go! Let me go to him! Father!"_

"Father!" she cried abruptly, her eyes snapping open. She would have shot up if someone had not already been holding her in a relatively upright position. Panting, sweating, she looked around almost fearfully. She made a shuddering sound and tried to pull away when she felt someone stroking her hair.

"Shh, Selene, it's me," said a gentle, familiar voice.

"Father?" she whispered, looking up.

"Yes, it's Father," said Dante, smiling at her lovingly. "You were dreaming."

"There's a first," she mumbled, putting her hand to her forehead, rubbing her temples. "By Cernnonous, what a headache." Dante held her close, like he had when she was a little girl. Like he had when she still had ten fingers. He had offered to get her a prosthetic, but she politely turned him down. She allowed herself to be coddled for once, not shoving her father away gently like she usually did when he tried to hold her. He placed one hand on the side of her head and laid her head against his shoulder, stroking her hair.

"What did you dream?" he asked. Selene hesitated, not wanting to reveal she had been frightened in and by the dream. At length, however, the whole dream poured out in full, gruesome detail. Dante was silent as he listened, even after she had finished.

"Father?" she asked, wondering why the dense silence. He didn't answer her. He didn't seem to have heard her. "Papa?" she tried. He blinked and looked down at her.

"Sorry, I was just thinking," he said distractedly.

"A dangerous pastime," commented Selene.

"I know," Dante said with a smile. It was an old game they used to play, deriving it from a line from a movie Selene had once enjoyed. Every time one of them said they were thinking, the other would say "A dangerous pastime" and the thinker would respond "I know". Selene hadn't played in years, so it was nice to hear it again.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing really," he said vaguely. "Why don't you try to get back to sleep? It's late." Kissing her cheek he laid her down again. "Good night, Little Dragon." Selene allowed herself to smile a little at the old nickname. She knew her father wanted her to. She also knew that he was withholding information _again_.

"Good night Father," she said placidly, closing her eyes. Dante smiled sadly at his daughter and left the room. As soon as his footfalls faded out, Selene jumped out of bed and followed him on light feet. He was talking with her mother, telling her about the dream. Both of them looked worried.

"But it doesn't necessarily mean that Mundus really _has_ returned," said Trish.

"Trish, there was real fear in her voice when she cried out," said Dante somberly. "She tried to fight me when she woke. If Mundus doesn't frighten her, nothing will."

"But she's had dreams that relate to him before," countered Trish. "She's never been scared then."

"That's because this time Mundus is in our dimension," replied Dante. "His evil influence has seeped into her thoughts. I'm sure we'll be having nightmares tonight too. He's back, Trish."

Trish knew that he was right and sighed. "I know. I had a nightmare about him last night. He's looking for us. He'll be looking for Selene too, once he finds out about her, which he must have by now."

"I don't know about that," said Dante. "Remember, I told him to give my regards to my _son_ before the gate sealed. He won't be expecting a daughter."

"Like you," said Trish dryly.

"What do you mean?" asked Dante.

"You know what I mean," replied Trish. "You expected a boy too. The son of the legendary Dark Knight Dante to carry on the legacy. Just like you are the son of the legendary Dark Knight Sparda, carrying on his legacy. I even dare to say that you wish that Selene was a boy, that she would be a better Hunter if she was!"

"That's ridiculous!" burst Dante, spluttering a little. "I'd never think that! I mean, granted, Devil Hunters are traditionally male, but…"

"But what?" demanded Trish. "You'd love her more if she was a boy!"

"Yes, but…" Dante began, but his voice trailed off as he realized what he had said. "Trish, I didn't mean…you know I didn't…"

"Have you so little faith in her?" asked Trish quietly. Selene had heard enough after her father's thoughtless retort. She slipped away to her room. A strange feeling filled her heart; a stabbing pain that brought stinging tears to her eyes. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply and slowly, and opened them again when the tears were gone. Crying was a weakness to her.

"If that's the way you feel _Father_," she said to herself, "then I suppose I'll just have to open your eyes." Quickly she dressed again, tying her hair back in a braid and fixing a heavy metal dragon's head accessory to the end. Not only was it esthetically pleasing to Selene, it also worked as a weapon if it ever came that close. She could whip her hair around and crack an assailant right between the eyes with the solid metal dragon. She had never had to before, but she wasn't quite sure what she was dealing with. She would be prepared for anything. She also donned black leather, fingerless armbands with sharp metal spikes, perfect for hand-to-hand combat. She reached for her dagger, but let her hand fall back as she looked to the door. Silently she walked into her parents' bedroom to the metal closet where her father kept his treasures. Expertly she picked the heavy padlock and opened the doors to reveal Alastor, Ifrit, Ebony and Ivory, a nail gun, a grenade launcher, and the great sword Sparda. She took Ebony and Ivory, holstering them in the buckles on her pants. Alastor she slipped into place on her back. Ifrit she wasn't so fond of, but every little bit counted now. She slipped off her spiked armbands and replaced them with Ifrit, hanging her armbands in Ifrit's place in the closet. She completed her thievery with the taking of Dante's amulet. Her grandmother's amulet, given to her sons many years ago. This she fastened around her neck. Satisfied, she shut and locked the closet again and returned to her room. She wrote a brief note and left it on her pillow. That done, she went to the window, opened it as wide as she could, and hopped onto the frame. Glancing back, she whispered, "If I don't return, know that I love you, even if Father doesn't love me." Turning back, she hopped out the window and sped away into the night.


	3. Flight

A/N: "Deadly Whispers" is my song; I'm not stealing it from anyone. And I'm sorry I took a while to upload, but I've had a chronic case of Writer's Block.

Flight

        Selene shuddered in the cold night air. 'Maybe I should have brought my cloak,' she thought. She glanced back the way she had come. 'I guess I haven't gone too far.' She turned back and slipped back into her bedroom and up to her wardrobe. From there she retrieved her rather heavy black cloak, lined in blood-red satin, swirled it around her shoulders, and pulled up the hood. Out the window again and into the night. But this time she was aware of a voice shouting her name from behind her. She ignored it and quickened her pace. But there were heavy footsteps thudding on the stone. Her father was chasing her. She ran, not looking back once. Dante shouted for her to stop, to wait, but she only sped up more. Soon she realized she couldn't run any faster, and her father was gaining on her. She had only one other option.

        "Demon wings, don't fail me now," she said to herself, spreading her arms wide. She felt the demonic power surge through her. Her eyes physically blazed, everything going red. She laughed hollowly as her demon form took hold of her. Her skin blackened, her eyes flashed red, small curving horns grew from her forehead, and six black-feathered wings ripped forth from behind her shoulders. Even her clothing changed to a costume of black and blood-red leather. She grunted and leapt into the air, stretching her wings wide.

        "No!" shouted Dante, but he no longer mattered. He was beneath her now. Literally and figuratively. He was part of some world that she did not belong to anymore. She reached for the sky and the blood-red moon and soared away to Mallet Island.

        Dante returned to the club with a heavy heart. Trish was waiting for him anxiously.

        "Well? What happened? Where is she? Where's our daughter?" she demanded frantically as soon as she saw him. Dante looked up at her wearily and shook his head. "Oh no. She didn't go _there_…"

        "She did," said Dante. "She transformed into her demon self and took off for Mallet Island."

        "We're going after her," said Trish decidedly.

        "Are we?" asked Dante. "Come and see." He led her to the shed where they kept the plane. The propeller had been torn off and broken, the wings were slashed to pieces, and the engine was lying in pieces all over the floor. "She's two steps ahead of us. This will take weeks to repair!" Trish surprised him by handing him a wrench and a pair of work gloves.

        "Starting now," she said and set to work.

        Flying is an exhilarating experience, especially for the first time. That is, unless you're on a mission of proving yourself and vengeance and can't even feel the flight because you essentially don't exist anymore but are locked away in a stronger, darker form of yourself. That's how it was for Selene. She had never flown before, and she didn't know what it was like now that she was. Selene was sleeping inside Demon Selene, who was flying for her. She awoke and regained control when they landed on Mallet Island. Before she continued on, she decided to shift Alastor down to her side instead of on her back. It would be easier to access that way. That done, she looked about the fortress of her father's extraordinary tales with a critical eye. Everything was crumbling, falling apart. Hadn't the entire island been destroyed when Mundus had been banished back to the Underworld?

        'He must have rebuilt it,' she thought, walking along the broken path to the door. 'Not well, but he was probably in a hurry. Homey décor wouldn't be the first thing on my To-Do List if I had just escaped the Underworld. He'll probably get to that after he takes over the world. That is, he _would_, if he was going to be around that long. Well, he's not. I'm going to kill him.' By now she had reached the door, but she had to duck through it since it hadn't been completely reconstructed. As soon as she was inside several large rocks fell in front of the door, blocking her way out.

        "Well, I'm not leaving _that_ way," she muttered, looking around the hall she had entered. The floor was cracked and uneven. The stairs were askew. Only the great statue of the horseman riding to war was fully intact. "Humph. I didn't come here to admire the architecture, I came here to kick some ass." So saying, she went to one of the doors. It was locked, just as her father had said. Sighing, she went to the other, expecting a red shield to block it until she paid it with Red Orbs. Surprisingly, it didn't. She continued with caution up to the tower, singing quietly to herself as she went:

_"Something's stirring in the night_

_As all the world is sleeping_

_And deadly whispers ride the wind_

_As silent eyes are weeping_

_Deadly whispers gently slip_

_Down the river of nighttime's dreaming…"_

        She broke off as she reached the top of the tower. 'I really need to finish that song someday,' she thought as she climbed up into the very top room. A Bloody Mari hung in the corner, holding the rusty key she needed. She knew that taking the key would awaken the Puppets and Maris, but she had to. Pulling a face, she reached out and took the key, attempting not to touch the Mari in the process.

        "I hate these suckers," she muttered, wiping the key off on a scrap of cloth lying on the floor. "Oh well. Makes 'em all the most fun to vivisect." With that, she hopped down through the hole in the floor and headed for the stairway. Immediately, she was waylaid by a Bloody Mari and a Bloody Puppet. She disposed of them easily, scattering their remains contemptuously. 'If that's you have to throw at me, Mundus, then I won't be here long,' she thought. She knew better, though. She returned to the entrance hall and opened the locked door. Behind it she found the room which had once held a huge biplane, which now belonged to her parents. There was only a great gaping hole where the plane had once rested now. With a small shrug, she went to the next door, only to have to dodge a barrier that grabbed at her. There were words carved around the door:

        "The 17 Puppets are my masters. There will be no admission as long as my masters are here."

        "OK, terrific," Selene said, rolling her eyes. "So where are they?" As if to answer her question, she suddenly found herself strung up by puppet strings. Dry, creaking laughs sounded behind her as she was turned around. Seventeen Bloody Puppets stood before her. Her lip curled in disgust. "I hate you all," she said bluntly before slicing her way free and hacking at the Puppets around her. They were caught off-guard and didn't last very long against her dancing blade. When they were destroyed, the seal on the door lifted and Selene went through.

        She found herself in the corridor from her dream. Cautious, she continued up the stairs. She was soon besieged by Bloody Maris and Puppets _again_, but they were disposed of just as easily as the last batch. She had to open the cathedral, she knew, but something was making her uneasy. She touched Alastor, just to make sure it was still there as she approached the carving. To her surprise, the carving was of Alastor herself, not the Judge of Death as it should have been. Alastor quivered on her back, then sailed to the carving's hand. A voice spoke:

        "I am Alastor. The weak shall give their heart and swear their eternal loyalty to me."

        "No, wait, I'm only _borrowing_ the sword, it belongs to my father and he was already tested, so there's really no need to-" she began, but the carving did not hear her. The sword turned in Alastor's hand and shot out at Selene before she could even blink. "Oof," was all she could say as the blade pierced her through and impaled her to the floor where she lay as though dead. After a moment, she twitched and her eyes snapped open. Groaning slightly, she planted her feet firmly on the ground and started to push herself up.

        'This is uncomfortable to the highest degree,' she thought, clenching her teeth as she reached the hilt. She hesitated for a moment, then forced herself through it, stumbling forwards, dizzy, while she healed. She spun around and seized the hilt, feeling Alastor's power course through her for the first time. She gave it a few experimental swings. Nothing wrong now. Satisfied, she tossed it into the air, caught it, and slid it down her back in almost one fluid movement. She turned back to the carving. It was now the Judge of Death, holding the Staff of Judgment. Her eyes narrowed. That wasn't right. The Staff of Judgment was hidden in some underground room behind the library. It wasn't supposed to be already in the statue. Still, it was one less thing for her to do and put her one step closer to Mundus. But she was wary as she entered the cathedral. Even so, she failed to hear the dark laughter echo in the corridor as the cathedral door shut behind her.


End file.
